


Hiding

by 401



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sex, Smut, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:43:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5216555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/401/pseuds/401
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky needs Steve. Steve knows,</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hiding

“Bucky, stop nuzzling on me like that,” Steve squirmed away from the friction of Bucky’s nose against his shoulder blades, “I’m skinnier than you, I ain’t got padding up there.”

Bucky sighed and pulled away. He rolled onto his back and stared at the cracked ceiling of their small Brooklyn bedsit. It looked like it had been painted with coffee syrup, all brown and mottled with damp. It wasn’t the prettiest, and it definitely was not the warmest, especially in the winter. Now, it was at the other end on the spectrum; stifling heat and stickiness that seemed to leech in through the poor quality windows like mustard gas. Bucky lifted the small of his back, feeling the hot skin cling to the sheets. He did not understand that, despite the heat, he craved closeness with Steve even more than usual.

It was difficult. The hiding and lying about how he really felt. He hoped that Steve had not noticed him staring, although he was sure that he had. He hoped that Steve did not feel his heartbeat catch when he hugged him, although he was certain that he did. It would complicate their friendship monumentally. Bucky had to hide, he had always had to; he didn’t want Steve to have to hide as well.

“Don’t be like that, Buck,” Steve sighed, propping himself on an elbow, “Stop pouting.”

Bucky smiled, avoiding Steve’s eye. The smaller man’s hairline was damp and darkened with sweat and his bare chest was hit with a blush of pink that was making Bucky’s throat tight.

“You…you can come back all close,” Steve’s voice was earnest and reassuring, quiet, “I don’t mind.”

Bucky shook his head and Steve adopted his old position, facing away from Bucky on his side. Bucky looked at his back, again choked by the distance between them. His fingers itched for the contact. He raked his hands over his eyes and puffed out a sigh at the stained ceiling.

“Buck,” Steve’s voice was small, “Come back,”

Bucky turned to Steve, questioning momentarily whether the smaller man was asleep. Steve talked in his sleep a lot.

“I want you to come back, Buck.”  


Bucky smiled to himself and scooted across the bed, wrapping his arms around Steve’s slight torso and pulling him into the hollow of his, feeling their skin stick slightly. Bucky’s breath shook as Steve pressed into him harder, pulling his face down so his lips hit his neck.

“What’re you doing, Stevie?” Bucky was tentative, his lips were pressed messily against Steve’s neck and his voice was low.

Steve smiled and moved his hands back, catching Bucky’s thigh and pulling it forward, pressing them together even firmer. Bucky fought the urge to slam Steve onto his back and kiss him like he had imagined and rehearsed so many millions of times in his head.

“Do it,” Steve whispered, seeming to read Bucky’s thoughts like usual, “I know what you need.”

Steve’s last words made Bucky’s stomach drop. He turned himself and pushed his lips against the crook of Steve’s neck, kissing slow and deep until the blond keened away from the touch and spun to meet Bucky’s lips in a mess of bumped teeth and clawed shoulders.

“ _Stupid_ ,” Steve hissed into Bucky’s chin, “So stupid thinking I’d be mad at you.”

Bucky chuckled cupping Steve’s face and dragging his hips to line up with his.

“Stupid for getting _yourself_ into this,” Bucky groaned, sitting forward to suck marks over the smooth, pale skin of Steve’s chest.

Steve moaned softly, pushing his hips down into Bucky’s involuntarily.

“W-woah there, Stevie,” Bucky’s voce shook as his stomach knotted blissfully and his toes curled into the sheets, “Don’t do that.”

“Why the heck not, Buck?” Steve coughed a laugh, repeating the motion and watching as a familiar red head blossomed on Bucky’s chest and his eyes flickered shut.

“You’re the devil incarnate, Steve,” Bucky sighed, pushing his hands into Steve’s underwear and cupping his ass with shaky hands, “Irish-Catholic my eye.”  


Bucky let his eyes close in a daze, pulling Steve’s hips again rhythmically and letting his fingertips trail over his thighs like water over the skin. It was hard to absorb the fact that it was even better than he had imagined, but the almost uncomfortable thumping of his heart confirmed it with each desperate beat.

“This is _wrong_ , Stevie,” Bucky whispered dryly, moans creeping up his throat and his voice climbing with anxiety and arousal.

“Shush up,” Steve frowned, lost in a daze of his own and drunk on the sight of Bucky unravelling underneath him.

“Take em’ off Steve,” Bucky tugged Steve’s underpants clumsily. His voice was blunt and low, not aggressive but impatient and heated.

Steve took his time, grinning into the dark room and revelling in the little needy twitches of Bucky’s thighs.

“Stevie, I’m not fucking around I’m falling apart,” Bucky moaned, pushing his forehead against Steve’s chest.

Steve slid off and threw his boxers into the corner of the room (barely) before Bucky flipped him onto his front.

“Quit handlin’ me like a dame,” Steve growled as Bucky leaned awkwardly over to the nightstand to find the tub of Vaseline that was usually either exiled shamefully to the back of the drawer or wedged under the mattress.

“Quit teasing me like one then,” Bucky mumbled, swirling his finger in the gelatinous paste until they were slippery.

He traced over Steve’s hole, listening as the blond stuttered unholy little noises into the pillow in front of him, His hips bucked backwards and Bucky caught them, gripping on one side and slowly sliding his hand up and down Steve’s shaft with his free hand.

“Mary in _heaven,”_ Steve whined as Bucky slid one finger into Steve’s entrance, clicking past ridges of muscle and circling at the knuckle. Bucky clenched his eyes shut. He felt like he needed four hands to do everything he needed to. Because it had gone beyond want now; he needed Steve like he needed air.

“Your mama would have licked you raw for cussing like that, Rogers,” Bucky shook his head dramatically, pushing in another finger and scissoring until Steve’s thighs went weak under him.

“Good boy,” Bucky praised, almost silently, “Push back into me like that.”

Instinct told Steve to mutter something acidic and sassy but in truth, he loved it. He loved that Bucky was not wanting his from a distance. That he was unashamedly and openly enjoying him. In truth, it killed him to see Bucky play talk with dames and then sit in guilty uncomfortable silence if it went any further that a kiss with them. He could see the anxiety it gave him to pretend that he wanted that, and it was nothing but upsetting.

Bucky pulled his finger out and shuffled his boxers to mid-thigh, kneeling behind Steve and clutching his hipbones.

“Ready?” Bucky’s voice was suddenly cautious, unsure.

“Go for it,” Steve whispered into the pillow.

Bucky took a cautious breath before pressing his length into Steve, holding himself together with some unseen strength as Steve pushed himself back demandingly so that Bucky was buried to the hilt in overwhelming heat and tightness. It took him a moment to remember to move, but one he started he couldn’t stop.

“Steve,” Bucky ignored the sweat dripping down his nose, “You’re fucking perfect, you know so?”

Steve did not respond, just kept slowly dipping his hips in time with Bucky’s well-placed, but irregular thrusts.

“Slow down, Buck,” Steve warned, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Bucky sighed, steadying this hips and slowing the movements. Steve moaned, low and happy, arching his back like a scratched cat as Bucky ground his hips in new circular waves.

“So close, Buck,” Steve huffed, “So, so, so close.”

Bucky sped up a little, smiling a tilting his head back a little as Steve growled and twisted his hands in the bedsheets.

He leaned himself forward, resting his forearms either side of Steve’s head and pressed their bodies flush, ghosting his lip over the back of Steve’s neck as he thrusted him into the mattress.

Steve let out an unmistakably final moan into the sheets, trembling so hard that Bucky was pulled over the edge headlong by the vibration of muscle. The pair laid still.

“Thanks,” Bucky gasped, “I needed that.”

Steve nodded. He knew.

 


End file.
